Through It All
by Beth Arritt
Summary: Sequel to "Blind Justice"


This story is the third in a series. You might be a bit confused as to how we got to this point and about a couple of comments made if you haven't read "[Watch Me][1]" and "[Blind Justice][2]" first. Both of those are available at [http://thepentagon.com/mcmadison][3] or you can e-mail me at [mcmadison@thepentagon.com][4] for a copy. A big thank you to my beta readers Celli, Nancy, Katy, Becky and Mary Beth (editor extraordinaire). You guys are the best!! 

Profiler and all its characters belong to Sander/Moses, Cynthia Saunders, NBC and the wonderful cast and crew. I'm just borrowing the excellent characters they gave us and I promise to put them right back where they belong and not hurt them. And not to make any money from any of them while they're here. 

**Through It All **  
by Beth Arritt   
_Copyright 1997_

* * *

"The trial of the man an Atlanta court already acquitted of being the infamous Jack of All Trades begins today in Maryland--" 

Sam shut the radio off in disgust. "Poor persecuted Jack my--" A knock on the door kept her from finishing her sentence. 

"I wouldn't waste any body parts on him," John Grant commented as he walked in and sat in front of her desk. 

"Hey. I didn't know you were here." 

"Just got in. Somehow I knew you'd already be here." 

"Honing your psychic abilities?" 

He widened his eyes in mock surprise. "Samantha Waters being sarcastic! Remind me to get my hands on the surveillance tape of this." 

"Maybe I've just been spending too much time around you," Sam said with a smile. 

John shook his head. "Not possible. There is no such thing as too much of me." 

She laughed. "How do you do that?" 

"Do what?" 

"No matter how miserable I am you can always make me laugh." 

"It's a special talent. All the more reason to keep me around." 

She gave him an enigmatic smile. "We'll see." 

"So, Bailey fixed it so you could watch the trial, huh?" He indicated the small TV on the far side of Sam's desk. 

"Yeah, although I still don't know how he pulled it off so that Jack wouldn't know about the camera." 

"He's got friends in high places." John stared at the TV set for a moment. It wasn't even turned on yet and already he hated it. "I'm glad you're not going to be in the courtroom," he said finally. 

"Me, too. I hated every minute of it." 

"Then why watch? Why not just wait for the verdict?" 

Sam sighed. "I wish I could. But I have to watch. I know Jack better than anyone. I might be able to decipher something from his reactions to questions, from his testimony.... There are a hundred things that could give the prosecution an edge." 

"There's a whole division of profilers at Quantico, why does it have to be you?" 

"I have to see this through." 

"I know. But I don't have to like it." The pained expression on her face made him back off. "Okay, sorry. Not another word. You know I'll support you no matter what." 

That elicited a small smile. "I know." 

"So... do you want to get some dinner when this thing's over for the day?" 

"Sure. Wouldn't be a Jack trial unless it was followed by dinner with you." 

"Gee, thanks. I think." John rose from the chair. "I've got some work to do. I'll see you a little later?" Sam nodded and John walked out of the office. 

He went to his desk, sat down, and opened a file. A few seconds later he closed the file and leaned back in his chair, turning it so he could put his feet up on the desk. He reached across the desktop for the small rubber ball at the far edge and bounced it lightly off the desktop, lost in his thoughts until a voice interrupted him. 

"Hey, man." Nathan walked up to John's desk. 

"Hey," John threw the ball to Nathan, who immediately tossed it back. 

"You're here early. How's Sam?" 

"Why are you asking me?" John shrugged, then relented under Nathan's glare. "She seems okay." 

Nathan sat down on the corner of the desk. "Better than you, I'll bet." 

"I'm fine." He started bouncing the ball off the desk again, only much harder this time. "I'm just going to sit here and quietly kick myself for not getting a clean shot at the bastard when we captured him." The ball bounced at an angle and skidded off his desk. 

"Sam knows better than anybody how much she can handle." 

"I know she can handle it--she's been through hell and back so many times she's in the frequent flyer club's gold circle. The problem is that someone like that can handle so much pain it can damn near kill the people around them to watch." 

"You knew what you were getting into from the start." The harsh words were softened by the concern in Nathan's voice. 

"You know Michelle won't leave Colorado or stop trying to get you to quit law enforcement. Does that change the way you feel about her?" 

"No, but we're married." Nathan's eyebrows shot up. "Are you and Sam--" 

"Forget it. I'm just blowing off steam." 

"You can't say something like that and expect me to just drop it." 

John took a long look at Nathan, then looked around the almost deserted room. He lowered his voice. "We've gone out a couple of times, that's all there is to tell and it doesn't need to be told to anyone else, get it?" 

"Got it." He hesitated briefly. "Do you think there's a chance the two of you might..." 

"The only full-time guy in Sam's life at the moment is Jack, and until he's dealt with there isn't room for another one." 

Nathan was silent for a few seconds, during which he tactfully decided to change the subject. "I'm going to talk to one of the victims in the Carolina case today, wanna come along?" 

"Nah, I think I'm gonna stick around, catch up on some paperwork." 

"Watch some TV?" John glared at him. "Okay, I get the point." Nathan stood up. "I'll talk to you later." 

John nodded and looked at his watch as Nathan strode off. Almost 9:00. He tapped his fingers on the desk, trying to decide whether or not to go watch the trial in Sam's office. "Oh, hell," he muttered as he stood up, "if she can handle it, so can I." He took a deep breath, then headed for the stairs toward her office. 

He arrived just as she was turning up the sound on the TV. After a perfunctory knock on the door, he walked in. 

"I must be losing my touch," Sam commented without looking to see who walked in. "I expected to see you a couple of minutes ago." 

The corner of his mouth turned up. "I was talking to Nathan," he said as he sat down. "Am I that predictable?" 

"About some things, yes. About others, you're not predictable at all." 

Before he could ask her to elaborate, court was called to order. Sam turned the volume up further, discouraging conversation, so he sat back and listened while he fantasized about using Jack for target practice. 

As in the previous trial, nothing much had been accomplished by lunch. "How do you think it's going so far?" John asked as he brought food in from the lunchroom. 

"There isn't much to read yet. The jury looked a little affected by the prosecutor's opening statement, but there's a lot of talking between now and the verdict." 

"I thought the opening statement was pretty good." It had been the only time Sam had watched the channel with the view of the jury and witness stand. The rest of the time she had watched the other channel, which John had been quick to dub the "Jack Cam", thanks to its close views of Jack's face. 

Sam took a bite of her sandwich, a faraway look on her face. "I hope I'm doing the right thing by not going," she said after a moment. 

"You've rehashed this to death, Sam. Your presence didn't affect him, maybe what he views as your defection will." 

"What an insightful observation." 

"It should be--you said it. Several times. Apparently you're better at convincing me than yourself." She didn't respond to his light teasing. "You're doing the right thing for the trial, and more important, for you." 

"I could have handled it." 

"I'm sure you could have. I could probably handle having my fingernails pulled out one by one, but you don't see me making an appointment to have it done." 

"It's not the same thing." 

"Maybe not, but it's close. Don't get me wrong," he continued quickly, "I have no doubt you can handle it. But just because you *can* do something doesn't mean you should. It's like solitaire." 

"What?" 

"Solitaire, the card game. If you make every move just because you can, you usually end up getting stuck and you lose. If you pick and chose your moves, you have a much better shot of winning in the end." 

"I think you've been spending too much time playing games on your computer." 

John sighed. He knew she could handle an argument right now, but she didn't need one. "I'm gonna go get another soda, you want something?" Sam shook her head and took another bite of her sandwich. John picked up his trash and made a hasty exit. 

He went back to his desk, but he couldn't find anything to occupy him until the lunch recess was over, so he decided to wander around. As he walked past Bailey's door he paused when he noticed a TV with the same view of the courtroom Sam had. He knocked on the door and Bailey motioned for him to come in. 

"You think this is what hell's like?" John asked as he crossed the room to stand in front of Bailey's desk. 

"What?" 

"A big building with the all-Jack show on TV in every room." 

Bailey gave a short laugh. "If it is I promise to be very good from now on." 

"Have you been watching all morning too?" 

He shook his head. "I just got in. How's it going so far?" 

John shrugged. "Motions, opening statements, that's about it." 

"How's Sam?" 

"Glued to the TV, what else did you expect?" 

"I half expected her to insist on going to the trial at the last minute." 

"Me too." John groaned. "Thank God for small miracles. I wonder if I could talk George into destroying the satellite link." 

"John..." 

John held up his hand. "I know, I know, 'Leave it alone, Sam has to do this, Sam can handle it.' See? I'm a quick study, I've learned the lines." He glanced at the TV set, where the jury was filing back into the courtroom. "I'd better go. Wouldn't want to miss one scintillating second." 

"If you hate it so much, why watch?" 

"It's just something I have to do," he parroted as he walked out. 

Sam looked up as he walked into her office and sat down. "Where's your soda?" 

"I didn't want to miss a second of the action." 

For a moment she looked like she might comment, then she shrugged and turned back to the TV set. 

The afternoon court session began with the entry of evidence into the record, including both the cassette and videotape from the courthouse hallway in Atlanta, and the fingerprint evidence from the scene in Atlanta, proving this man was Jack. Sam's statement was admitted with the explanation that she had been on the case from 1991 but "couldn't be spared from her duties with the FBI to come to Maryland to testify at this time." 

"Did you see that?" she asked John without turning around. 

"See what?" He had zoned out a bit, still listening, but not watching closely. 

"Jack. When they said I was too busy to come to the trial. He didn't like that." She spared John a brief glance. "This is taping, right?" 

He nodded, but she had already turned back to the TV. "Both cameras," he confirmed. Sam nodded absently. 

Once the formalities were over, the prosecution called their first witness. John was impressed with the prosecutor. She was good, and more important, she was quick. The sooner this trial was over the better. Most of the technical and psychological experts testified that afternoon, which wasn't surprising considering the lack of incriminating forensic evidence at the murder scenes. There were only three more prosecution witnesses on the list, so the defense would most likely begin presenting its case the next afternoon. Of course, one of the witnesses yet to go for the prosecution would be testifying about the murder scene of Tom Waters and the officer who was supposed to have protected him, but John refused to think about that for now. 

"Thank God that's over for the day," John said with a sigh. "Dinner in about an hour?" 

"Mmmm." Sam was watching the jury members as they left the courtroom. 

He assumed that meant yes. "Italian?" 

"Mmmm." 

"Okay." He stood up. "I'll be back in an hour," he said as he started for the door, "after I paint my face green and put on a frog costume for dinner." 

He was almost out of the office when Sam called out, "I heard that, and I will not go to dinner with a frog." A small smile broke through the tension on his face as he walked out. 

He came back an hour later to find her fast-forwarding through the tapes from the trial. "Looking for something in particular?" he asked, leaning against the door jamb. 

"Just finishing up my notes for the prosecutor," Sam replied without looking away from the screen. "Have a seat. I got sidetracked by Bailey and Grace, then George, then Nathan, but I'm almost done." 

He sat down as she apparently found what she wanted on the tape. She watched one little section a couple of times, then typed some notes into her computer. "There." She punched a few more keys. "Signed, sealed, and delivered, figuratively speaking." She powered down the computer and smiled up at him. "I'm all yours." 

John smiled. "I'll be nice and not comment," he said as he rose from the chair. "Let's go." 

They walked to a nearby Italian restaurant for dinner. John kept the conversation away from Jack, and although Sam smiled and made the right responses, he could tell she wasn't all there. 

They finished eating and walked back to the VCTF headquarters. John started to turn into the parking garage, but Sam stopped. "I've got a few things to do inside. I'll see you in the morning." 

John stared at her for a moment, perfectly still except for a muscle working in his jaw. "You're going to watch the tapes of the trial, aren't you?" 

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his right shoulder. After a few seconds, she risked a glance at his face. "I thought of a couple of things I wanted to look at again before tomorrow." 

"Fine," he said curtly, then turned to leave, but she placed her hand on his arm to stop him. 

"John, don't." He stopped, took a deep breath, and turned to face her. "Please." 

"Don't what? Don't hate what this trial's doing to you? Don't let it upset me? Don't get upset that the one hour you were away from the whole mess your mind was still right in the middle of it?" 

"Don't go away mad because you think I should back away from this. I can handle it, especially with the support... everyone's been giving me." 

"I *know* you can handle it, Sam," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm well aware of it." He sighed, his tone suddenly weary. "I'm just not sure *I* can handle it much longer." 

Sam's face went blank. "Then don't. Nobody's forcing you to stick around." She turned on her heel and went into the building. John stood there for a second, then walked angrily to his car. He was lucky not to get a ticket on his way home, since he worked out most of his frustrations on his gears, tires, and brakes. 

By the time he walked into his apartment, he was mentally kicking himself. "Way to go, Grant, you fuck," he grumbled at himself as he threw his keys on the coffee table. Sam, the person he would do anything for, had all but asked him to continue to support her, and he'd been a selfish bastard and made a nightmarish situation even worse. 

He sunk down onto the couch. "I'm an idiot." He sat there for about a minute before he got back up and went into the bedroom, where he stretched out on the bed and reached for the phone. 

"Hello?" Sam answered the phone on the third ring. 

John hesitated for a few seconds. "Hi." 

"Hi." Her tone was cautious. "Did you need something?" 

"A swift kick in the rear, maybe." He ran his hand through his hair. "Sam... I'm sorry. I was a total jerk earlier." 

"You were honest, why apologize for honesty?" 

"I wasn't honest, I was frustrated. This whole Jack thing just has me on edge, but you're the last person I should be taking it out on." 

Sam was silent for a moment. "You don't have to deal with it, you know. You can walk away anytime." 

"Walking away is not an option." 

"I can't figure out why you've stuck with it this long. It's not exactly an ideal situation." 

"You're not going to chase me away either, so don't even try." 

"Why? Is your sense of honor that important to you?" 

"No. But you are." He surprised himself with his words. He hadn't meant to let the conversation go in this direction. 

A soft sigh came across the line. "It's getting late, and I should get home sometime tonight." Obviously she didn't want to get into the complicated relationship between the two of them tonight either. "I'll see you in the morning?" 

"I'll be there." They both knew he was talking about more than arriving at the office tomorrow. 

"Thanks. I... I appreciate the support." She hung up the phone. John held the phone for a moment longer, then placed it back on the base. He banged the back of his head on the headboard of the bed a couple of times, then pushed himself to his feet to go take a shower. He had a feeling he was going to need every bit of sleep he could get if he was going to keep his mouth shut tomorrow. 

*** 

Despite his best intentions, John didn't get much sleep. He had to drink three cups of coffee just to make it to the office. As a result, he was tired and hyped up on caffeine when he got to the VCTF headquarters and found Sam asleep on the couch in her office. At some point in the evening, she had moved the TV cart over next to the couch to watch the tapes of the trial and apparently had fallen asleep with the tape still running. Not even the sound of static that filled the room when the tape ran out had woken her. 

He walked quietly over to the couch, turning the TV off on the way, and stood over her. Even in sleep she didn't look peaceful. Her brow was furrowed, and she shifted restlessly. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to bury his anger at Jack for everything he'd done to her. He had almost succeeded when Sam opened her eyes. 

"John?" She blinked a few times. "What time is it?" 

"A little after eight," he replied softly, reaching down to brush her hair off her forehead. "You want me to go get you some coffee?" 

"Mmm, breakfast in bed." 

"Yeah, well, maybe next time you could actually be in bed instead of on the couch in your office?" 

She blinked a few more times, then sat up and looked around. "Oh, I didn't realize... I must have fallen asleep while I was watching the tapes." 

"Why am I not surprised?" He rubbed his eyes. "I'm gonna go get some coffee, do you want some?" 

"Yeah, thanks." John left her sitting on the couch, still trying to orient herself. Before he went to the coffee machine, he stopped by his desk to give Sam a few extra minutes. When he arrived back at her office with the coffee, Sam was nowhere in sight. He sat down on the couch and put her mug on the table in front of him, then glared at the TV set as he sat back and sipped his coffee. He couldn't stand the sight of the set, much less what was on it, yet he had to sit and watch the damn thing all day. And stay calm. "Maybe I should just go kick in the trash can in the men's room once in a while," he muttered into his coffee cup. 

"What was that?" Sam asked as she came in and sat down beside him on the couch. 

"Nothing." She had changed clothes, and judging by the faint smell of soap, she'd taken a shower as well. They all kept extra clothing at the office because there had been times when they had worked through the night on a case, but today it irritated him for some reason. He jumped up. "I'm gonna get something to eat before this starts. Do you want anything?" 

"No, thanks." His irritation must have been evident in his voice because Sam gave him a puzzled look. 

"Okay, I'll be right back." He left, but instead of going to the lunchroom, he went to the men's room. He looked at the trash can, but decided Bailey wouldn't be too happy if he dented it, so he tried putting some cold water on his face. He was drying off when Nathan came in. 

"Hey. I thought I saw you come in here." 

John threw the paper towel into the trash can with unnecessary force. "And here I am. What's up?" 

Nathan frowned. "You wanna talk about it?" 

"About what?" 

"Whatever's got you so uptight you look like you're about to break the mirror with your fist." 

A fleeting smile crossed John's face. "Trash can, actually. With my foot." 

Nathan's mouth twitched. "So what's got you so uptight? Or do I even have to ask?" 

"I doubt it." John turned toward the mirror, leaning on the sink. "I hate what this trial is doing to Sam. I know it's tearing her up inside, and the worse it gets the deeper she digs herself into it." 

"And it's putting you through hell," Nathan finished for him. John didn't answer; he just continued to stare into the sink. "I have a news flash for you, buddy," Nathan said as he moved to stand next to his friend. "Fiction would have us believe love is all hearts, flowers, romance and great sex, but this ain't a fairy tale. Love is equal parts hearts, flowers, romance, great sex, fights, tears, and pure hell." Their eyes met in the mirror. "If this is important enough for you to want to fight for it, you're gonna have to find a way to deal with Jack and with Sam's job, because both of them are probably gonna put her through hell, one way or another, for a long time." 

After a moment, John nodded. "I have to get going," Nathan said. "I have to talk to one of those witnesses again--we think we're onto something. You gonna be okay?" 

"Yeah. Eventually." 

"All right." Nathan gave John's shoulder a small shake and turned to leave. He paused when he got to the door. "Oh, and don't bother with the mirror. It's shatterproof, all you'll get is a sore fist and a lot more frustration." John raised his eyebrows at him. "What? Michelle was here, remember?" John's laugh followed him out the door. 

When Nathan was gone, John stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment. "I can do this." Neither he nor his reflection were very convinced. He sighed and pushed himself away from the sink, hurrying to make it to the lunchroom and get food before the trial started. 

John walked back into Sam's office with a few minutes to spare. She was slumped on the couch, eyes closed, but as he sat down her eyes opened. "Hey." Her eyebrows rose as she took in the amount of food he had in his hands. "Hungry?" 

He put the stash of prepackaged danishes, cinnamon buns, and donuts on the coffee table. "Yes. But some of this is for you." 

"I'm not really hungry." 

"I saw how much you ate last night, and I'd bet money that you haven't eaten since." The look on her face confirmed his suspicion. "So, eat one of these before this thing starts. Please?" 

"Those things aren't even good for you." 

"That's a matter of opinion. Which one will it be, cinnamon bun or chocolate covered donuts?" He held both packages out to her. 

Sam took a deep breath, then snatched the donuts out of his hand. "Fine, I'll try." She ripped open the package and took a bite of one of the donuts. "So what happened to you?" she asked when she had almost finished chewing. 

"I ran into Nathan." He took a large bite of a cinnamon bun to avoid having to answer any more questions. By the time he'd finished it Sam had eaten all the donuts, and the jury had started filing into the courtroom. 

The first witness was the detective initially called to the Waters murder scene. Sam was sitting at least three feet away from John on the couch, but he felt her whole body tense as clearly as if he were holding her. 

He quietly got up and shut the door to the office. The blinds were already drawn, affording Sam the privacy he figured she'd need to get through this. When he sat down right next to her, their sides touching, he could feel the tension emanating from her shoulder to her calf muscles, as strong as an electrical charge. The detective described finding the police officer outside the house, fatally wounded, then moved on to the scene inside. At the mention of Tom's name, John felt Sam start to shake lightly. He looked over to see silent tears trailing down her cheeks. Her arms were clutched tightly against her stomach. He reached his arm across her shoulders and pulled her close to him. She leaned into him, the back of her head against his neck, accepting the comfort, but never taking her eyes off the screen. 

John pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She wiped her eyes periodically, the only movement she made besides the light shaking that never stopped. Her crying only became audible when the detective described Sam's reaction upon entering the house that day. John put his other arm around her and held her almost as tightly as she was holding herself, his chin resting on her head and his eyes closed tightly as he fought to keep from shedding his own tears in reaction to her pain. 

Just when John thought neither of them could take anymore, the witness was excused and the prosecutor asked for a short recess. John reached for the remote on the table and muted the sound. Sam turned her face to rest against his neck and stayed that way for several moments until the shaking finally subsided. 

John's beeper broke the silence in the room. He pulled it out and looked at the message. Sam sniffed and sat up, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry. Go answer that if you need to." 

"It's not urgent." It was from Bailey, but the message said 'when you get a chance', so he figured Bailey could wait. 

"No, really, go ahead." She wiped at her eyes again. "I could use a couple of minutes to pull myself together. Besides, if you're already going out I won't feel guilty about asking you to get me a bottle of water." 

"Okay. I'll be right back." He shut the door behind him as he left, then headed straight for Bailey's office. 

Bailey called out for him to come in before he even made it all the way to his door. He walked over to the desk. "What's up?" 

"I went to check on Sam when the recess started, but I saw the door shut, so I thought I'd just wait and ask you how she's doing." 

"Why not just knock?" 

Bailey shook his head. "I know she doesn't like crowds when she's upset. She probably wouldn't give me a straight answer anyway." 

John remembered the day they had gone over Jack's kills for the first time as a team. It had been Bailey who had gone to comfort Sam when Tom's case had come up. He had wanted to, but he didn't know her well enough then. "Bailey, if you want to watch with her for a while--" 

"No." Bailey smiled. "It's you she needs." 

Doubt flickered across John's face. "Maybe you should tell her that." 

"She knows it. Hang in there, John. This trial won't last forever, not for Sam or for you." 

John nodded, although he was beginning to wonder. "I'd better get back." 

"Go. Let me know if there's anything I can do." 

"Sure." He hurried to get some water for Sam and a soda for himself and made it back to her office with a few minutes to spare. 

"Thanks," Sam said as she accepted the water. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy from crying, but she seemed pretty composed, all things considered. 

John sat down next to her and looked into her eyes. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm--well, I *will* be fine. It's just so hard, listening to that clinical description of what happened." She took a deep, shaky breath. "That's my life. That happened to me and my family, and no matter how calmly it's presented, I can't look at it that way." 

"No one expects you to." 

"I do." 

He took her hand. "You're only human, Sam. You can't be any more than that, no matter how much you want to." 

"I have to try. I have to see this case through." 

He clamped down on the rising anger inside him. Luckily, the recess ended, and he didn't have to say anything else because it would have taken considerable effort to say something calm and supportive. 

The prosecutor called the remaining expert witnesses, then rested her case. When the judge ordered a recess for lunch, John muted the TV. "Why don't we go to the deli around the corner for lunch?" 

Sam was studying the jury as the left the courtroom. "What?" 

"Lunch. Hello? Sam?" 

She turned to face him. "Sorry, I was concentrating. What did you say?" 

"Lunch? How about the deli around the corner. Fresh air, sunshine, no TV..." 

"Um... okay." John was surprised. He had expected her to refuse to leave. "We have to hurry, though. I don't want to miss anything." 

"I know. Believe me, I know." They went to the deli and ordered, then sat at one of the outside tables. John enjoyed the sunlight and the reprieve from Jack, while Sam stared into space, providing all-purpose responses to anything he said. After a particularly amusing but totally false story about the time he set the world record for naked flag pole sitting received a "That's nice," he waved his hand in front of her face repeatedly. "Earth to Sam." 

She blinked rapidly and looked at him as if suddenly realizing he was there. "Sorry. I must have zoned out. I was thinking." 

"You weren't thinking, you were obsessing." 

"I am not obsessing." 

"You are. Admit it, you're obsessed with this case." 

"I am not obsessed. I'm just... intently focused." 

John snorted, then reluctantly backed off. "Fine. Have it your way." He gathered the trash on the table. "Ready?" 

She nodded. Neither of them spoke on the short walk back. Sam went straight to her office, but John went to see Bailey. He found him on the phone in his office and started to leave, but Bailey held up a hand and indicated he should come in. John sat down as Bailey hung up the phone. "How's it going over there?" 

John sighed. "The trial is going just fine." 

"And Sam?" 

"Sam has lost it. She's totally obsessed with this case. I swear it's all she thinks about 24 hours a day." 

"She can't help it, John." 

"I know. I understand that. I still hate it, though." He stood up. 

"Going back?" 

"Eventually. I need to take a walk or something first." 

He left the building and walked to a small park about half a block away. Five minutes on the bench there calmed him down enough to go back. Sam looked up as he walked in, and he saw relief in her eyes before she turned back to the TV. 

"Did I miss anything?" John asked as he sat down on the couch. 

"They just started." The first defense witness was taking the stand. John recognized him; he was the psychiatrist who testified on Jack's behalf in the Atlanta trial. 

"Didn't anybody play the tape from the hallway for this guy?" 

"Shhh." The psychiatrist explained that the defendant had a delicate nature and had been severely traumatized by the trial in Atlanta. So traumatized that he went against his nature and lashed out at Dr. Waters, imitating the man he had heard so much about in court, because he held Dr. Waters responsible for his ordeal. 

John groaned. "How much are they paying this quack?" 

That earned him a glare from Sam. He just shrugged and kept his mouth shut until the prosecutor began her cross-examination. At her first question--"How much is the defendant paying you, doctor?"-- he laughed out loud, causing Sam to glare at him again. Meanwhile, on the screen the defense had quickly objected and just as quickly the prosecutor offered to rephrase the question, explaining that what she meant was that he was a psychiatrist hired by the defense, and not a court appointed psychiatrist. The doctor had to admit that was true. He took offense to the implication he wasn't objective, but the prosecutor's words excusing him from the stand rang out over his protest. 

The defense called character witnesses, then Jack was called to the stand. His performance was impeccable. He stuttered, he stared at the microphone until he answered a question, when he would look his lawyer in the eye. When his attorney asked him if he killed Tom Waters or Officer Roarke, he looked straight at the jury as he answered no. 

The prosecutor cross-examined him briefly, but didn't shake him. As Jack stepped down, John gave Sam a puzzled look. "Why'd she go so easy on him?" 

"Because she wouldn't be able to break him, so it was much better to get him off the stand as quickly as possible. His angelic personality has less time to cause doubt in the minds of the jury." 

"Good strategy. You come up with that?" 

Sam was still watching the screen as she nodded. "Late last night." 

"Oh." He sent up a silent prayer that it would work as the prosecutor began her closing statement. 

She walked over to the jury box and held up a small tape recorder. When she pressed play, Jack's voice came out of the machine. "You can't lock me up, Samantha. I have to be free, for you to be with me." 

"You can't lock me up," the prosecutor repeated. "Smug words from a man so adept at deceit and switching personalities that in the time it took to tie his shoe, he went from the man sitting in that chair to this cruel, vindictive person and back again." 

As she spoke, the prosecutor walked slowly from one end of the box to the other, looking each jury member in the eye. "The defense doesn't even deny he said it. But then how could they?" The tapes have been authenticated, and two FBI agents with impeccable records heard him with their own ears. No. Instead, the defense would have you believe that the man just got upset and had a little breakdown. Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know about you, but that would have to be about the fastest breakdown I've ever seen." She played the tape again, looking at her watch. "Twelve seconds. And then he was suddenly back to his quote 'real' self." 

She went back to her table and picked up a thick file. "I have in my hand case summaries of all the different times that the Jack of All Trades has fooled federal agents--people who are trained to know when someone is lying and when they are wearing a disguise, people who have been doing this for fifteen to twenty years and longer. Yet he's fooled them time and time again." She put the file down and went back to stand in front of the jury. "Only a man that talented and that practiced could slip in and out of that persona so quickly. Only 'Jack' could do this." 

She played the tape again. "Don't let him fool you. Don't set him free to 'be with' Samantha Waters. Let her and her eight-year-old daughter have some peace at last. Peace in knowing that the man who killed Tom Waters and Officer Roarke will no longer haunt them in person, even if he will forever haunt them in their memories." 

"Wow." John looked at Sam. "That one yours too?" 

"No, she did that one all on her own." She studied the jury closely while the defense attorney prepared to give his closing argument. "I can't tell if it was enough to withstand the defense's chance to leave the last impression." 

"We're about to find out." 

The defense lawyer spoke to the jury about a man who stood to lose everything, including his life, because of an FBI out to persecute any convenient scapegoat to clean up a series of blunders on their part. He questioned Sam's reliability as a credible source because of her personal involvement with the case, a comment which had Sam on the verge of angry tears and John ready to look the guy up and punch him when this was all over. He brought up the past mistaken arrests, as in the Austin Keller case. Then he pleaded with the jury not to send an innocent man to jail for murder because of a misguided attempt to lash out at someone the defendant truly believed had ruined his life. "He has put his faith in the justice system. Don't let him down." 

The judge gave final instructions to the jury, then they filed out to deliberate and court recessed. John took a deep breath and reached for the remote to switch off the TV. 

"What now?" His voice sounded oddly loud without the electric noise from the TV to muffle it. 

"Now we wait." 

"Great," he said sarcastically. "That'll be easy." 

They sat there silently for a minute. "Tell you what," John said suddenly, "Why don't you come over to my apartment and I'll cook you dinner?" 

"You can cook?" 

"Of course. You don't think I eat out all the time, do you?" The expression on her face showed that that was exactly what she thought. "Okay, so I do eat out a lot, but I swear, I can cook." 

Sam studied him for a moment. "This is just too good to pass up." 

"Great. Let's go." 

"Now?" 

"Sure. We have to stop at the store, and by the time we get to my place and I cook, it'll be time for dinner." 

She shook her head. "Okay. Let me call the house and let them know where I'll be." 

"Fine. I'll be back in a few minutes." He went down the hall and told Bailey where they would be, made a quick stop at his desk, and then went back to find Sam waiting for him. 

Sam took her car straight to John's apartment while he stopped at a nearby grocery store. The store had a video rental section, so he grabbed a couple of movies to keep Sam's mind off the verdict while he cooked. 

He came out of the kitchen an hour later to find her watching "While You Were Sleeping." At least the movie was playing, whether or not she was actually paying attention was another question. Judging from the way she was staring into space, he doubted it. 

John took a deep breath. "Dinner's ready." She didn't move. "Sam?" He walked over to the couch. "Sam?" 

She started and looked up at him. "Sorry, what?" 

"Dinner's ready." 

"Oh, great." She moved to a seat at the table while he brought out the food. He kept the dinnertime conversation clear of the trial, not that it mattered. True to form, Sam spent the whole time thinking about it, giving polite responses to everything he said, but not really hearing. One of the things that had often unnerved him about Sam was that she listened too well and, as a result, usually heard the things he wasn't saying. Now he'd gladly take that over her current state any day. 

They were almost finished eating when John decided to bring up Jack, since she was obviously thinking about it anyway. "So... if by some small chance this jury doesn't return a guilty verdict, what happens next?" 

He had gained her attention from the second he said jury. "Then we go on to another state." 

John hesitated for a second before deciding to speaking his mind. "Sam... don't you think that if there's another trial, maybe you should sit it out?" 

"I can't. I have to--" 

"--see it through. I know. You've said that over and over again. But why?" 

"It's something I have to do." 

"Why?" 

"Because I do. I'm fine. I may be a little preoccupied during the actual trial, but I've made sure that my work is getting done and I'm taking good care of my daughter. I've even managed to spend time with you. I'm not neglecting anything." 

"Except yourself." 

She blinked. "What?" 

"Forget it." 

"How do you think I'm neglecting myself?" 

"Maybe neglecting isn't the right word. I just don't see why you have to put yourself through this." 

"It's something I have to do." 

John was starting to feel like he was in a Laurel and Hardy sketch. "Why?" 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then looked at him. "I really don't want to get into this right now." 

"Fine." 

Sam looked at her watch. "Actually, I should get home and spend some time with Chloe. I didn't see her last night, I only talked to her on the phone." 

"Yeah, she probably misses you a lot." 

"Not that she'd admit it. She's very independent." 

*Like mother, like daughter,* John thought. He followed her into the living room while she gathered her things, then followed her out to her car. 

She unlocked her car and opened the door and turned back toward John. "I'll see you in the morning?" 

"Yeah." He leaned down and gave her a light kiss, more a kiss of comfort than romance, and caressed her cheek with his finger. "Take care of *yourself* tonight, will you?" Sam nodded, then got in the car and shut the door. He watched her drive off, then headed slowly back to his apartment. 

*** 

By lunchtime the next day, he'd hardly spoken to Sam. He'd stopped by her office that morning to say hi, but they were both so busy trying to catch up on the work they had missed over the past couple of days that he hadn't seen her since. When his stomach growled, he finally looked at the clock and realized it was after one. 

He got up and stretched, then went to Sam's office. She looked up from a file when he knocked on the door. "Have you eaten yet?" 

She shook her head. "Haven't had time." 

"Me either, but my stomach is starting to protest loudly, so I'm going to get something from the lunchroom and take it back to my desk. You want me to bring you something?" 

She thought about it for a second, then shook her head. "I'm not really hungry. And don't start, I promise I'll stop and get something as soon as I feel like eating." 

"Okay." He turned to leave, but stopped and turned back to her when she called out his name. 

"I do want to talk to you some time this afternoon." 

"Okay." He waited, but she didn't say anything else. "Just give me a buzz when you're ready." She nodded and he left. 

*** 

It was almost 3:30 when she finally called. John stopped what he was working on--an easy task because he hadn't been able to concentrate anyway--and went to her office. He knocked lightly, then walked in and stood in front of her desk. "What's up?" 

"I wanted to talk about last night." 

"Okay." He crossed his arms. "Why now?" 

"Because I already have this trial hanging over my head and I don't need unresolved problems between us, too. Not when I can do something about it." When he didn't comment, she continued. "John... if we're going to make anything of whatever this is between us, you have to stop trying to protect me all the time." 

"I'm not trying to protect you." She gave him a disbelieving look. "Well, maybe I am, a little, but there's more to it than that." He looked around the room as if he would find the right words written on the walls, then he caught sight of the security camera. 

"You really need to have this conversation right now?" 

"Is that a problem?" 

"The now part, no. It's the here part that's not so good." He nodded to the camera. 

"Oh." It was unlikely anyone would see the tapes, but they had all learned caution from Bailey's trouble during the field training exercise. 

He moved behind the desk and pulled her out of her chair by the hand. "Come on, let's go." 

"Where?" 

"You'll see." He led her past the elevators to the stairs. They went down a couple of flights to the vault that had been converted into a holding cell for Austin Keller. 

"Why here?" 

John opened the door into the outer room next to the vault. "Because I know for a fact that the cameras are off at the moment." 

Sam followed him into the room. "How do you know that?" 

He shrugged. "I heard it somewhere earlier. Now where were we?" 

"You were about to tell me how you weren't trying to protect me," Sam reminded him as she leaned back against the wall next to the door. 

"Right." He still hadn't found the right words to explain it. "I don't know what I'm doing. I know you can take care of yourself. I know you could handle the weight of the world if you had to. I just hate seeing you do it." 

She stiffened at that comment. "Then don't watch." 

"That's not what I meant. I lo--admire a lot of things about you--your willingness to take on everything, your strength and your independence just to name a few. But watching you suffer the way you do when you have to deal with Jack *hurts*, Sam." 

"I told you, *don't watch*." 

"I don't have a choice." 

"Sure you do. Seems simple enough. You want me, but only on your terms--" 

"That's not what I--" 

"Let me finish. I can't change for you, so the obvious conclusion is that this will never work. So why bother?" 

"Because it can work." 

"How? I can't change the way I am. I can't stop doing what I need to do because it hurts you. You think it doesn't hurt me? It hurts like hell. But I can live with it because I know I'm doing what's right." 

"I know it hurts you. That's why it hurts me." 

"Then we're back to the obvious--walking away." She laid her hand on the door knob. 

"No!" He slammed his palm on the door to keep her from opening it. 

"Fine. Then you walk away. One of us has to." 

"No. I can't." 

"You won't." 

"I *can't*!" 

"Why?" 

"Because I'm in love with you, dammit!" 

The room went silent for a moment before both of their beepers went off. After a second they each reacted and checked their respective pager screens. 

"A verdict." John put the machine away and crossed his arms. "Great timing, as usual." 

"It can wait." 

He blinked. "Excuse me?" 

"It'll be at least half an hour before they're ready to read it. And I want this cleared up before I have to deal with the trial." 

John leaned back against the wall. "Fine with me." 

"Did you mean what you said?" 

"Have you ever known me to say something serious when I didn't mean it?" 

Sam took a couple of breaths, uncertainty showing on her face. "Why didn't you say something before now?" 

John rolled his eyes. "You'd have to be blind not to see it Sam. At least half of the task force has figured it out already." 

"I guess the closer you are to a situation the harder it is to see things clearly." 

"Maybe you just didn't want to see it." He stared at the floor. "Look, we can walk out of here and forget this whole conversation..." 

She smiled. "It's not really the kind of thing you can forget." 

"Okay, we can pretend it never happened, then." Sam laughed softly. "You think this is funny. Great." 

She reached up and lifted his chin until he looked her in the eyes. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I felt the same way?" 

"Well... no." 

"'You'd have to be blind not to see it,'" she teased. He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so I might be a little more subtle, looking back, but Bailey knew. Grace knew, Angel knew, Nathan and George probably knew, although they never said anything." 

"So basically you're telling me that everyone knew we were in love except us?" 

"Looks like it." They slowly moved toward each other, just as both beepers sounded again, causing both of them to pull back. 

"Duty calls." Sam pushed her hair back behind her ears, looking around rather uncomfortably. 

"I suppose so. Listen, Sam... I can't promise I won't let all this get to me, but I will do my best to stay calm about it." 

"I know. And when it gets to you, I'll try and be patient. Deal?" 

John smiled. "Deal." They managed to share one short kiss before their beepers went off again and they went running up the stairs. 

They went straight to Bailey's office. He looked at both of them with a strange expression. "Where have you been? I'd have thought you'd come running at the mention of a verdict." 

"Some things are more important than this trial." Sam tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile at the confusion on Bailey's face. "Any sign of the jury yet?" 

"They should be in any time now. Are you going back to your office to watch?" 

"I think I'll watch in here if that's okay." 

"Of course." The three of them stood around and made small talk as one by one Grace, George, and Nathan showed up to watch the verdict. 

Finally the jury was brought into the room. As the judge called for the answer, John put his arm around Sam and she leaned against him. 

"Madam Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?" 

The bailiff took the paper the foreman offered and handed it to the judge. "We have, your honor." 

"What say you?" 

"On the count of murder in the first degree in the case of Officer David Roarke, we find the defendant guilty." Everyone in the courtroom and in Bailey's office cheered, until the judge called for silence. "On the count of murder in the first degree in the case of Tom Waters, we find the defendant guilty." Everyone cheered even louder. 

On the screen, the judge was thanking the jury and taking care of other formalities, but no one in the office was paying attention. Each person congratulated Sam with a hug while she tried not to cry. When she received a hug from Bailey, she held on a little longer. 

"Thank you," she whispered. 

"For what?" He pulled back and looked at her. 

"I never would have gotten to this point without you." 

"Yes you would. It might have taken a little longer, but you would have." 

"Thanks." She turned to the whole group. "Thanks to all of you. Jack was my problem, but he made himself your problem for associating with me, and you didn't back down. I don't think 'thank you' quite does the job." She took a deep breath, still trying to keep her tears under control. "I think there will be some celebrating going on at the fire house tonight, if you'd like to come." They all accepted immediately. "Great, I'll see you after work." She left, heading for her office with John right behind her. As soon as the door shut behind him she turned around and buried her face in his shoulder, crying. 

He held her tightly, rubbing her back and rocking a little. "It's okay, Sam," he said with a smile. "You won, remember?" 

"I know." Her voice was muffled by his shoulder. "I'm just so... I don't know, relieved, maybe." She pulled back just enough to wipe her eyes with her fingers. John gave her his handkerchief. "Thanks." She wiped the tears off her face and smiled up at him. 

"It's over." 

"Not quite." Her smile faded a little. "He can still appeal. And if he doesn't get the death penalty..." 

"Even if a court accepts his appeal do you know how hard it is to get a conviction overturned? And he killed a cop. He'll get the death penalty." 

"Then live a nice, long life on death row, I suppose." 

"I doubt that." He pushed her hair behind her shoulders, then ran his hands through it a few times. "Besides, whatever happens, we can face it, right?" 

"Absolutely. Right now I think I could face anything." 

He raised an eyebrow. "Anything?" 

"Why? What did you have in mind?" 

"I was thinking about an eight-year-old blonde, a pizza, a little pre-party partying..." 

"Sounds good to me." 

"Great. I'll meet you at the fire house after I stop at the store?" 

"You're even going to the store for me?" Her smile widened. "I could get used to this." 

"Well, you have to order the pizza." 

"I'll exercise my dialing finger on the way home." 

"There's that sarcasm again. You really should watch that. It's dangerous." 

"How?" 

"It tends to get you glared at, smacked, punched..." 

"And yet you've survived all these years. Truly amazing." 

He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I've created a monster." She smacked his arm playfully. "See? What did I tell you?" 

Sam laughed. "Thank you." 

"For what?" 

"For being you." 

"I wouldn't be anybody else." 

"I'm glad." 

He kissed her a couple of times, then pulled away. "We have to go." 

She picked up her bag from behind her desk. "Lead on. I'm ready." 

*** One year later *** 

"It is just after midnight here at Lorton Correctional Facility, where we are awaiting word that the sentence has been carried out." The reporter paused to listen her earpiece. "I have just received word that the lethal injection was administered at midnight, and at 12:03 Dr. Arnold Ramirez pronounced--" 

Sam reached out with the remote and muted the TV. She had chosen to watch the execution from her own couch, safe in the shelter of John's arms, rather than be present at the prison. 

"*Now* it's over," she said, as she dropped the remote beside her on the couch. She snuggled in closer to John, who stroked her hair absently. 

"How do you feel?" 

She thought for a moment. "Odd. I've never been one to feel good about someone's death, no matter what they've done. I believe it's a necessary part of our justice system to prevent senseless killings, but I don't feel good about it." She sighed. "But I can't help feeling a little glad knowing he's gone." 

"That's understandable. You've never been this personally involved in a death penalty case before." 

"Mmm, maybe." Sam sat in silence for a moment. "I wonder if this is a little like how he felt when he killed. Satisfied." 

"I doubt you could begin to contemplate how Jack really felt about anything, even with your considerable talents." John shuddered. "I wouldn't even want to think about it." 

"Sometimes it's the only way to separate the good guys from the bad guys." 

His brow furrowed. "How do you mean?" 

"Both sides are killing. It's whether or not they enjoy it that usually defines which side they're on." 

"Did you?" 

She looked up at him. "Enjoy it?" John nodded. "No. I'm glad he can't hurt anyone anymore, but I didn't enjoy it." 

"Then you don't feel like he did." 

"Mom?" Both Sam and John sat up and turned toward the hall to see Chloe standing there in her pajamas. 

"Chloe, honey, I thought you were in bed." 

"I couldn't sleep." She came into the room and crawled onto the couch next to her mother. "Is the bad man gone?" 

Sam exchanged a worried look with John as she gathered her daughter into her arms. "How did you know about that?" 

"I'm young, Mom, not deaf." 

A brief smile crossed Sam's face. "He's gone, honey. He won't hurt us again." 

She thought about that for a moment. "Is he with Daddy now?" 

"No. Daddy won't see him again and neither will we." 

"You're sure?" 

"Absolutely." Sam kissed her daughter on the head. "And now you need to go to bed, young lady." 

Chloe climbed across Sam onto John's lap. "Will you tuck me in?" 

"Sure. Come on." He started to pull her up by the hand as he stood. 

"I want a piggy back ride." 

"Okay." He offered his back to her as she stood on the couch and climbed on, locking her arms loosely around his neck. He headed down the hall toward her room as she tried to convince him she really needed to hear a story before she could sleep. 

Sam was smiling at her daughter's antics when she heard a knock at the door. Her smile turned into a frown as she turned off the TV, went to the door and looked out the peep hole. A man in a Western Union uniform stood outside the door. She left the chain latched and opened the door a few inches. "May I help you?" 

"Samantha Waters?" Sam nodded. "I have a delivery for you." He handed her an envelope. 

"Thank you." The man smiled and walked away as Sam shut and locked the door. She opened the envelope carefully as she walked back toward the couch, then stopped as she read the message inside. 

"I think I just created the shortest fairy tale in history," John said, as he came back into the room. "Something about a princess--" He stopped for a second as he saw Sam's face, then hurried to her. "Sam? What's wrong?" 

She handed him the telegram and somehow made it to the couch to sit down. John read the note out loud. "'How does it feel to kill an innocent, Samantha? Was it as good for you as it was for me?'" He went to the couch and sat down beside her. "It's a trick, Sam. One last mind game the sick bastard decided to get in before he died." 

"What if it's not? What if he's still out there?" 

"Don't let him do this to you." John took her hands in his. "He's gone. He can't hurt you anymore unless you let him." 

"You don't know that!" She was trying not to cry. "He could have fooled us all. He's done it before, how do we know he hasn't done it again?" 

He refused to let Jack do this to her again. "I'm gonna clear this up. Don't jump to any conclusions until I make a few calls, okay?" 

Sam sat perfectly still, staring into space, while John made his calls. After several minutes he came back to sit next to her on the couch. "I had them check the phone records at the prison. Jack called the Western Union in Atlanta this afternoon--apparently he had an account there under one of his aliases. According to Western Union, he specified that the telegram be delivered at 12:10. Didn't mind the extra charges, he said. Of course he didn't, he wouldn't be around to pay." 

"Maybe it's a setup." 

John shook his head. "He wrote a note and sealed it in an envelope about an hour before he died, then gave it to the priest who was with him to open after he was gone. The priest just opened it. The message was for you. 'Wish I could have seen your face when you got the telegram. Guess I get the last laugh after all.'" John crumpled the telegram into a ball. "I don't get it, though. Why go to all that trouble and then tell you it was a trick?" 

Sam took the telegram from him, opened it up, then deliberately ripped it to shreds as she spoke. "He wanted me to know he could get to me from beyond the grave. But he was wrong." 

"Yeah?" A hint of a smile hovered on John's face as he started to think she would be okay after all. 

"I'm still here and he isn't. I'm pretty sure I'll laugh at some time in the future." 

"Guess you get the last laugh then." 

Sam nodded. "I don't feel much like laughing right now, though." 

"I know." He rose from the couch, pulling her up with him. "Come on." He led her toward the hall, turning off the lights along the way. 

"I don't get a piggy back ride?" 

"No, but if you're good, I'll tell you a story." 

"Okay, but make it good." 

"You got it. Once upon a time, there was this princess who lived in a fire house..." 

Sam's laugh echoed down the hall.

* * *

   [1]: http://www.gwu.edu/~cms/images/fanfic/watchme.html
   [2]: http://www.gwu.edu/~cms/images/fanfic/blind.html
   [3]: http://thepentagon.com/mcmadison
   [4]: mailto:mcmadison@thepentagon.com



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